Guy rode up to the dead bull, and gazed with interest upon its mighty proportions, and especially at its grand horns, so gnarled about the centre as to remind him of the roots of some tough oak. They were, indeed, trophies to be proud of. Poeskop, who had ridden up, looking as pleased as Punch, was thinking of yet other feats. "Baas," he said, his bleared eyes gleaming, "you must shoot a rhinoster. Look!" He pointed towards the river-bed, skirting along which two black figures were still plunging heavily. "Yes, Poeskop, of course," replied Guy; "the rhinoster, by all means. Come along; forrard on! I’ll keep the Martini for the present." Once more they set their ponies at the gallop, and rapidly overhauled the two black figures ahead of them. Far to their left front, the herd of wildebeest were vanishing into the heart of the great plain; the buffaloes had sheered away yet more to the left, and were standing at gaze a quarter of a mile away, evidently meditating a rush for the coveted shelter of the river bush. Galloping on, the hunters were presently within a quarter of a mile of the rhinos, which, considering their gigantic size and unwieldy shape, moved at an astonishingly fast pace. Now the two beasts swerved suddenly to the right hand, and were presently lost to view among the river jungle. As Guy and the Bushman approached the place where the animals had disappeared, Poeskop whispered,-- "They stand somewhere in there, baas. You must look out, for the rhinoster is a nasty-tempered fellow, and they may go for us." They turned, and rode very quietly into the bush. After two hundred yards of spooring, they were about to emerge from the denser thickets into an open glade, when Poeskop, who was leading, lifted up his right hand. Guy peered from behind their screen of shrubbery, and saw one of the two rhinoceroses standing facing their way. It was evidently scenting the air for danger, and listening intently; its huge misshapen head, garnished, as Guy noted, with a magnificent fore-horn, turning swiftly from side to side, as if peering this way and that. Guy knew from his uncle what poor sight these creatures have, and, dismounting, crept round to obtain a fairer and a closer shot. Poeskop meanwhile remained with the horses. Guy succeeded admirably in his stalk, and getting within thirty paces of the monster, let drive for its heart. The Martini bullet clapped loudly as it struck the animal’s thick hide; and upon the instant, the infuriated beast, snorting like a steam-engine, charged for the smoke of the rifle. Guy had jumped aside behind a tree and reloaded. So quick was the charge that the monster had vanished into the dense bush almost before its assailant had realized that it was past him. He ran for his pony, and met Poeskop bringing the nag to meet him. "He’s turned, baas, and gone up wind again," said the Bushman. "We will follow him up; but you must keep a sharp lookout."